


the sun amidst the storm

by kandeya



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kandeya/pseuds/kandeya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had once been easy to believe in heroics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sun amidst the storm

It had once, Kondo mused, been easy to believe in the idea of heroics. To believe that the righteous principle, and the just sword, would set the world straight---set its pieces together and keep it untarnished.

The Yorozuya's face was appalled when he saw the Mimawarigumi officers approaching them, and then his eyes widened with horror. Kondo felt a twinge of self-hatred. How many times, he wondered, had this sorry drama played out in front of his eyes?

During the war, during the long and brutal years afterward. They had never been allowed their peace back in those days, and him and his ragtag bunch of boys were small fry. Nothing like what Gintoki had been.

He held out his hands, slack, with none of their usual strength. There was no sword by his side, no uniform to sully---he had dressed only in the simple country clothes that he'd worn all those years before they'd found Edo and a home.

The woman---long-haired, eerie, though he couldn't remember her name just yet---said nothing, just clapped cold steel to his wrists. Kondo did not shiver, even as his skin prickled.

He smiled, broadly, hoping that it would ease Gintoki's distress, if only a little. He stood straighter. The officer glanced once, searchingly, at him. Kondo's smile did not falter, and his spine did not bend. He would have this much pride in himself. He would have this much strength for them.

He had never wanted to be a hero, really. There was a promise, distant now, lingering deep in his bones and blood, that he tried to hold to, tried with all the determination of an insolent child to keep to. With all of a child's stubborn faith too.

To be the sun, to be the warm, forgiving sun. To be someone who would not turn away, not from betrayal, not from destruction, not from childish fights or deadly hatred. He had never held himself to be an important man---the sun shone on everyone, regardless of who they were, regardless of what they'd done, just _there_ , uncalled for and reliable---and he absolutely refused to believe that his life was somehow worth more than any of theirs.

Two white-coated officers led him away, and he could no longer see the Yorozuya's face in the corner of his eye. He hoped, selfishly, that Gintoki could be strong. This one time, this last favor.

Sougo and Toshi deserved that much at least, if he could not be the hero that they'd seen in him. That they'd killed, and done worse, in order to stand by.

The door of the Mimawarigumi prisoner transport closed with a heavy clank. The woman sat across from him, pulled out a cell phone---with a plethora of cute straps, including a fluffy doughnut---and furiously typed on it. She would not look at him.

Maybe she had a family somewhere, Kondo thought, someone who looked forward to hearing from her, to listening to her chat idly about food and good weather and noisy neighbors. He smiled, again.

Nothing he had seen---not her deadly prowess with the sword, not her absolute devotion to the Mimawarigumi chief---would convince a reasonable man that she was just as kind and good as any of the laughing young women who passed by the fancy coffee shop up the corner from the Shinsengumi station.

And yet, when had he ever been reasonable? He could only lead with that heart of his, with that too-forgiving heart of his. Maybe if had been a smart man, maybe then he would have been a lord, a king of men.

But the sun never fought the clouds, not like this, with rain in the air. He strained a bit to look out of the barred window.

The engine rumbled, low and forbidding, and Kondo could see the tires kick up dust as they pulled away from the Shinsengumi compound. He bent his head, thinking.

_Had he been a good man?_

The radio chatter was buzzy and indistinct, and the van slowed down as it reached the main thoroughfare. A line of police cars was passing in the other lane, and he realized with a sharp pang that the funeral had concluded.

_Had he done what he could, for all his friends, for all the people that he had cared for?_

He smiled, again, broad and warm. He straightened, pushing his shoulders forward, moving to the very edge of the hard bench. The woman looked at him, briefly, and then turned away.

He turned, pulling up what shreds of courage were left to him, and looked through the bars, smiling, a man of confident certainty.

Toshi's eyes were sharp, and suddenly confused, though not a muscle moved out of place. Sougo's mouth opened, as if he meant to ask something. Horror--so unlike a practiced sadist--was beginning to flood his features.

The van turned sharply, clattering down a narrow side street. Kondo slumped back, suddenly exhausted. He had given them what he could, and he wondered if it was hope enough. He closed his eyes, briefly, feeling the grind of the van's gears, the roughness of the broken road.

The rain drummed steadily against the roof. He listened, silent. They would be okay, he thought. They were stronger than him, strong as steel.

He wondered, if in the end, he was allowed to feel regret. Lives he had not led, choices he had not made.

And yet, this was not a bad end, only a quiet one. He hoped it would be dignified. No, not dignified, really. Just worthy, worthy of those lives that would continue on after his own was lost.

There was nothing to be ashamed of.

The rain fell, steadily on.


End file.
